


Proud of Your Boy

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Classism, Families of Choice, Gen, Homophobia, POV Outsider, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons' father meets Sarge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud of Your Boy

The man standing on his doorstep is intimidating.

It’s not his stature. Alexander Simmons towers over the man in front of him by at least a few inches, enough to force the other man to look up. The muscles don’t do it either; while Alexander Simmons is a thin man, their security system is enough to put him at ease about any intruders. The scars don’t do much for him either. 

It’s all in the man’s expression. The smile on his face is predatory, all teeth, and it’s enough to set him on edge at once. He doesn’t see smiles like that outside of work on the stock market. It’s a smile of a man who already knows he’s won.

“Can I help you?” Alexander wonders if his wife is watching. She’s inside the house, probably working on their filing system. His sons are out; Mark is in New York finishing up his degree and Alex Jr. is out on a football team away game for his high school. The man looks up at him.

“You Simmons’ Dad?” 

The man has a southern accent with a gruffness that tells Alexander that this man is low class. It doesn’t help his nerves; he’s never been able to predict those from poverty. Alexander clears his throat.

“I’m Alexander Simmons, if that’s what you’re asking. May I ask what this is about. We don’t accept solicitors.”

The man extends his hand for that. Handshake. Alexander loathes the thought of having to accept it; the man’s hands are dirty, scarred and calloused. “My name is Colonel Sarge. I’m Richard’s Commanding Officer.”   

Alexander stares. Colonel Sarge? What kind of name is that? His thoughts travel to his eldest son. Dick. Alexander hasn’t seen him in years, which is neither good nor bad. Dick has always been an afterthought in Alexander's mind.  From high school on, it became rather clear that he wasn’t going to have any use holding up the family name. And that wasn’t even counting his unfortunate sexual orientation. When Dick told him he was going off to war, Alexander couldn’t have approved more. It was hard to ruin a family reputation from space and perhaps with that big brain of his, Dick could manage to bring something home that’d be worth hanging on the mantlepiece. 

“Is he alright?” Alexander felt a bit of fear stir in his heart. The man in front of him had no folded flag, but the thought of Dick being sent back in a body bag was enough to put him on edge. The man shook his head.

“No. He’s fine. More than fine. Kid’s a war hero.”

Alexander’s eyebrows rose. A war hero?

“That’s amazing,” he said, and he meant it. It was more than he could have dreamed of. “I wasn’t aware. He should have told me. ”

The Colonel shrugged. “He tried to tell you but Grif’s been stealing his mail. He’s not too fond of you.” The bitter smile on the man’s face told Alexander that he likely felt the same. “However, that’s not why I’m here. I came to deliver this. Told Grif you deserved to get it.” He holds out a letter.

Alexander opens it as fast as possible. Despite their estrangement, it would be nice to hear from his son. Figure out what the hell he did to earn himself a title like war hero. When he sees the stationary, his excitement dies. This is no letter. This is an invitation. A wedding invitation. 

Alexander is suddenly painfully aware why this Grif may not like him. His son’s partners have never been fond of his treatment of Dick. 

“He doesn’t want you to walk him down the aisle or anything,” the Colonel says. “He’s not an idiot. We got Donut for that. But he’d like you to show up. His Mom and brothers too.” 

Alexander purses his lips. He’d like to see his son. Honestly. He’s a disappointment, sure, but Dick is his son all the same. But to show up to this farce? How could he? If the neighbors heard-

“I’m sorry-” Alexander says, handing back the letter. “I’m afraid I can’t make it.”

The Colonel takes the letter back. Tucks it in his pocket. He looks down at his hands for a second. “I thought you might say that. Shame.”

Before Alexander can react, there’s a fist running into his jaw and Jesus Christ, for a small man, the Colonel packs a punch.

Alexander comes back to his senses lying on the stoop, the Colonel standing above him. He pulls his shirt up to his mouth to help stop the blood. He’s sure he’s down a tooth. His blood is on the Colonel’s knuckles.

“You idiot!” He slurs. “I’m going to call the cops!”

The Colonel doesn’t seem to care. “Don’t bother. I’ll be long gone by then. But I just want you to know-” The Colonel seems taller now, standing over Alexander. There’s no visible anger on his face, all of it in his eyes. It’s terrifying. “Your son is one of the finest men I’ve ever had under my command. He’s saved the lives of an entire planet. He brought down a corrupt military special ops project. And while he’s an annoying son of a bitch sometimes, I couldn’t be more proud of him.” He wipes Alexander’s blood on his jeans. “Don’t contact him again. You ain’t worth his time.”

And with that, the Colonel spits on him. Right in his eyes. 

By the time Alexander gets back to his feet, the Colonel is gone. 


End file.
